


To Anger

by Aly_H



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Execution, Gen, Guilt, Jowan's execution, Set during Awakening but flashback of Origins event, self-hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 02:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15500199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Quick prompt-fill from tumblr. Prompt was "A memory that makes your muse angry."Wrote this with Aristide Amell where he ends up reflecting on what makes him angry and decides that it is himself.





	To Anger

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a happy story. ^^' Ris has a lot of anger and is very similar to Anders in that regards (which is why they were friends in the Circle).

“You’ve got to have _something_ that pisses you off just thinking about it,” Anders’ scowl from across the table is deep. They’ve had conversations like this in the past, sitting side by side in some dark corridor hiding from the wrath of whatever Templar they hadn’t had the sense not to piss off.

Nothing said _Aristide Amell_ like a tendency to give a slow smile right before his fist made contact with a Templar’s face.

_He has a temper_ , Irving had used to sigh apologetically while looking disapprovingly at the young man who often was more bruised than not following such an outburst. Still those memories didn’t make Ris mad, more… _amused_.

Reaching forward to snag his glass he drank deeply. The only real difference between this talk and the Tower ones was that Ris now had wine. _Good_ wine, and a cellar full of it. This particular bottle a gift from Orlais sent by a certain snickering red head whose reputation as a bard was now growing exponentially – and well deservedly. He’d never _tell_ her but it wasn’t nearly as good as the Antivan red their assassin friend had sent with a note about how it _might be poisoned, might not._

“…nothing that comes to mind.”

“Liar,” Anders rolled his eyes. “There’s got to be _something_.”

He paused thinking about all the things that made him truly angry, not just annoyed – _Circles, self-righteous Chantry folk, his missing family, Darkspawn, the Architect’s self-righteous smug face…_

“I’m sure there’s _something_ ,” he said at last. His mind finally drawing a memory to mind. He sighed, setting his glass down, the sweet taste lingering on his tongue made bitter by the thought. Fury and self-loathing twisting in the deep pit of his stomach.

_I’m sorry…_

_I am too, friend._

He’d held the knife so tight his knuckles had gone white. Later, it’d been pried from his fingers gently. Of all people it was Arainai who’d come looking for him. The assassin hadn’t spoken – just closed Jowan’s eyes with a gentleness Ris hadn’t expected before pulling Ris to his feet and gently guiding him back to his room in the keep – helping him wash the blood away without a word.

“Jowan,” he said at last, Anders’ had begun to grow worried at the tense silence. He didn’t elaborate – better it be assumed that he was talking about Jowan’s betrayal and not what came after.

“Oh.”


End file.
